


Unspoken

by evocates



Category: Ouran High School Host Club
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/pseuds/evocates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Kyouya finds silence in Mori.’ Four scenes, with countless words said, none spoken out loud. But for them, it is perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

_one_

Kyouya finds silence in Mori.

Sometimes, he thinks that the most enjoyable moments of the club aren’t with Tamaki cooking up huge, implausible schemes that always seem to work due to luck. Sometimes, he thinks that the quiet moments, him in front of his laptop, Mori with a book, sipping tea, are the best.

He says more during these moments than he does anywhere or any time else, but nothing is ever _spoken_.

The silence around them is like an ocean, deep and encompassing, but there are the sounds of the waves, lapping gently at the shore. The waves are their actions: a raised eyebrow, a small smile, a nod. Mori tilts his head and Kyouya knows he asks: _How are the accounts?_ or _They are noisy, aren’t they?_ Kyouya will then nod, replying _Fine, as always_ or _Yes, shall we stop them?_

Theirs is an oasis of calm and sanity in the noise and endless chaos of the Host Club, and, Kyouya thinks, he likes it this way.

 _two_

They are both protectors, whose jobs are in danger, who may not be needed in the future.

Honey can take care of himself, no matter how much he clings to Mori now. Kyouya can see this in Mori’s eyes, the silent, almost-desperate _don’t grow up yet_ and _stay with me so I can protect you_. Mori has no idea how to be anything but Honey’s protector, Kyouya thinks, and he finds this truth to be bittersweet, because he is the same.

Tamaki is unable to take care of himself, but he has found Haruhi. Kyouya is selfish, so selfish – he has always taken the important, mundane matters from Tamaki’s hands so his best friend can dream. Haruhi won’t do that, he knows, for Haruhi is too practical and too down-to-earth, so completely a _commoner_ that Kyouya sometimes wonders how she fits into this Club. Kyouya knows Haruhi will be able to ground Tamaki, and he knows that someday, he will not be needed any more.

He catches Mori’s eyes over two blond heads, and he thinks Mori reads the _no, no, don’t go yet_ and the _don’t leave me, stay_ in his own eyes.

 _We’re kindred spirits_ , Kyouya does not say, but Mori hears anyway, and he smiles sadly, _I know_.

 _three_

It is Tamaki’s wedding, and Kyouya is the best man. His knuckles are white around the box holding the rings, but he is not shaking. Here, here is the moment, he thinks, and he suddenly can’t breathe.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Kyouya looks upwards, meeting Mori’s eyes. _Alright?_ he asks, and Kyouya wants to laugh. Mori is as reticent as ever, even after five years and without speech.

He wills his lips to say _yes, I’m fine_ but his eyes betray him, _no, I’m not, I’ll never be again_ , Mori squeezes his shoulder, and Kyouya sees _I understand_. His eyes are dark, kind, and Kyouya realizes that he does understand. Honey is the Haninozuka head now, and he doesn’t need Mori as a protector any more. He needs him only as a comrade, a friend.

 _Tamaki needs his best friend_ , Mori doesn’t say, and Kyouya nods. He adjusts his tie and smoothes nonexistent wrinkles from his suit. He smiles, and, when Tamaki smiles at him, nervous and jittery, he places the rings in those gloved hands.

There is a weight lifted off his shoulders and relief in his breath, he realizes. He catches Mori’s eyes, _I’ll be fine_ , he says, and Mori nods, _yes_.

 _four_

It is three weeks after the wedding and Mori is at his door, tall and solemn, and Kyouya isn’t unable to predict the bouquet in his hand. He blinks, but invites Mori in. The flowers are placed in a vase, decorating Kyouya’s windowsill, and they do not speak.

Mori leans in, and the kiss says everything and nothing and words are so very inadequate now. He gasps, but doesn’t pull away, and Mori knows him well enough, knows him better than perhaps everyone, to deepen the kiss instead of backing off.

He kisses back, _We understand each other_ and _Why not?_ Mori is smiling, a slight, almost unnoticeable curve of his lips, and there is a hand in Kyouya’s hair.

He stops thinking.

 _Silence._

 _end_


End file.
